Not Doing It Alone
by sleepless86
Summary: As Bellamy said, Clarke doesn't have to do it alone. So she doesn't. Set post 2x16, but Clarke stays at Camp Jaha after all. Rated M for grown up sexy-times. This is my very first story ever, so please review!
1. Chapter 1

"...you're forgiven….please come inside."

Bellamy didn't, couldn't know just how much Clarke wanted to step over the threshold of Camp Jaha, to follow her fellow Skypeople into the familiar, if ramshackle, base that they'd created here on Earth. She looked numbly at the scene before her: the refugees from Mt. Weather were making their way toward the medical pod, some limping, some supporting one another...Raven in Wick's arms, her own mother on a makeshift stretcher holding tight to Kane's hand. Clarke's thoughts were repetitious, looping around and around her head. "They're alive. They're safe. They're alive. My people survived." Saving her friends, her family...it was a victory. Yet every step she had taken since the control room felt heavier than the one before, every gesture more labored. Yes, she had rescued them all from Mt. Weather, but at what cost?

She registered a small pain in her palms. Looking down, Clarke saw that her fists were clenched by her side, her nails digging into the soft, dirty flesh of her hands. With considerable effort, she relaxed and flexed her digits outward. Clarke was self-aware enough to know that her current state of numb confusion was only the beginning. She understood that the last few days, and the decisions she had made as leader, would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Suddenly the thought of entering the camp with Bellamy seemed impossible. His forgiveness wasn't enough. There would never be enough forgiveness for the things she had done. He breathing hitched, and Clarke suddenly felt as though all of her clothes were too tight. She turned to look into Bellamy's eyes, saw the concern there. He looked so tired, so much older than he was. His time inside Mt. Weather had aged him. That was her fault too. And yet here he stood, offering Clarke forgiveness and friendship and solidarity. She held his gaze, her breathing coming rapidly now, her heart rate quickening. Her hands tugged at her jacket, she couldn't get enough air.

"Take care of them for me," she tried to say, but it came out in a hoarse gasp.

"Clarke? Clarke, are you ok?" She felt Bellamy's hand on her shoulders, but his voice sounded so far away. She could barely hear him over the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. She squinted into his face, but her vision was narrowing. Why was it so hard to breathe?

"Jesus, Clarke, talk to me!" Bellamy's voice was louder this time, he was shouting at her. Then she closed her eyes and heard no more.


	2. Chapter 2

She awoke in the medical pod. Clarke opened her eyes, squinting into the unnaturally bright lights above her sick bed. She raised her hand to block out the light and immediately heard someone stirring beside her. It was Bellamy, rising from a chair and crossing to her side. "If fainting was an attempt to get me to carry you into camp like some sort of damsel in distress, I'll have you know it worked, Princess." Bellamy's tone was light, but his eyes were wide with worry. He reached out and gently pushed her back down when she tried to sit up. "Whoa whoa, just rest easy there, hotshot. One of the nurses should be here to check on you in just a minute."

Clarke tried to speak, but it came out in a weird croak. She cleared her throat and tried again. "You carried me, huh?" she asked, offering a weak smile. "Yeah, I did," Bellamy responded simply, but Clarke saw him blush slightly and raise a hand to rub the back of his neck. "Now be a good patient and don't make me regret my Prince Charming act." As if on cue, the nurse came in and handed Clarke a pill and some water. Clarke recognized her vaguely from the Ark. Her name was Eloise or Ellery or something. "Your mother's orders, Clarke. She wanted to come in and check you out herself, but she's still…" the nurse trailed off. "Right, of course. How is she? Is she alright? There won't be any...permanent damage, will there?" The nurse shook her head. "She's going to be right as rain. Your mother is tough. Now take that." The nurse gestured toward the pill. "It's a mild sedative. From what this handsome young man here told us, you experienced a panic attack. Stress induced. It's perfectly understandable given what you kids have gone through.

Panic attack? No way. "No. No I don't think that's possible. I don't have any sort of history of anxiety or anything. I must have been dehydrated." The nurse gave her a placating pat on the hand and gestured again for her to take the pill. "Well then this water will help, won't it?" Clarke looked to Bellamy for help, but the traitor shook his head. "Clarke," he said in a low voice, "take the damn pill. You need the rest. Clarke remained mutinous. "No. There are too many things I could be doing. I feel fine now, really." She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Bellamy stepped into her, holding her gaze in that broody intense way of his. She recognized that look. It meant he wasn't taking no for an answer, damn him. "Clarke, this isn't a joke. Take the pill, lay back down, and get some goddamn sleep."

She took the stupid pill.

The nurse nodded approvingly while Clarke finished the water, then she left them alone, dimming the overhead lights as she walked out of the small room. The semi-darkness was soothing, she had to admit. She looked at Bellamy. He had his arms crossed and was eyeing her expectantly. She continued to sit, her legs dangling over the side of the bed. Bellamy sighed and shook his head. He reached down, took her left boot in his hand, and began loosening the laces. "Hey-" Clarke began to protest. "Quiet, you," Bellamy cut her off. Clarke huffed out an exasperated breath but let him continue with the other boot. Once she was in her socks, Bellamy helped her shrug out of her jacket. Still, she couldn't bring herself to lay back.

Bellamy walked over to a cabinet and was busying himself with finding an acceptable blanket when Clarke spoke again. "Bellamy? Do you…" He turned, blanket in hand, and closed the space between them. Even though the bed she was sitting on was fairly tall, Bellamy's body towered over her. She looked into his face, wondering if she could bring herself to form the question. "Do I what, Princess?" His face was lined and tired, a mirror image of her own. He needed sleep as much as she did. But he was the only person she could ask…

"Do you ever have nightmares? You know, about some of the stuff we've seen and...done?

Bellamy's face softened. His hand found hers in her lap and grasped it with surprising firmness. He looked directly into her eyes when he answered. "Yes. About Charlotte, about Finn, about the people who were floated because of me. Some nights they're bad, others not as much." Clarke nodded mutely, and to her horror found that her eyes were prickling. Before she could control herself, one fat, hot tear escaped from each of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She looked down at their joined hands and tried to compose herself.

Bellamy's thumb traced a warm, rough circle on the back of her hand. "I don't want to sleep alone," she whispered, still unable to meet his eyes. "Ok," was Bellamy's only reply. He understood. Clarke lay back on the bed, then curled to her side facing away from him. She felt Bellamy climb in next to her, throwing the blanket over both of them and the wrapping his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. Clarke could feel his heartbeat, steady and comforting, if a little rapid, against her back. Clarke shifted and tucked her hair under her shoulder so that it wouldn't be in Bellamy's face. His breath warmed her neck and she thought fleetingly that this might be the most comfortable she had felt since they landed on Earth.

The pill was beginning to take effect. Clarke's eyelids drooped, her breathing slowing into a relaxed rhythm just as Bellamy murmured, "Sleep well, Princess".

For the first time in weeks, there were no nightmares.


	3. Chapter 3

When she opened her eyes again, her eyelashes brushed against Bellamy's chest. She must have turned over in the night. Her arms were tucked between their bodies, but Bellamy's arms...Bellamy's arms rested heavily around her waist, and his hands had slipped under the hem of her shirt and were securely molded to her lower back. One of her legs was tucked between his knees. He was still asleep, she could tell from his even breathing. She inhaled deeply and breathed in his scent: dirt, sweat, blood...but under all that there was a maleness that Clarke found rather heady. Her heart rate picked up, her body responding to Bellamy's rather intimate embrace before her mind had a chance to rationalize it.

"What would it be like," Clarke thought, "to be a normal girl with a crush on a normal boy?" If circumstances had been different, would Clarke and Bellamy have ever gravitated toward one another? Ever since the trainwreck that had been losing her virginity to Finn, then losing him altogether, Clarke had quietly walled off that part, the romantic part, of herself. And it wasn't as if any of them had time for romance. "Except...Raven and Octavia have made the time…" a small, frustrated voice in her head spoke up. She envied them. Maybe she should seek out some physical comfort as well.

Bellamy stirred, his arms instinctively pulling her closer as his body began to wake. His hands moved along her back, tracing fire into Clarke's skin and causing her to shiver. She curled deeper into his chest, her head fitting just beneath his chin, her lips almost resting against the hollow at the base of his neck. He let out a soft sleepy sound from the back of his throat, and for some reason this caused Clarke's stomach to drop and her breath to hitch. Clarke pulled her head away from his neck to look up into his face and saw that he was staring down at her through hooded eyes.

"Morning," Clarke whispered. "Is it?" That was a good question. Clarke realized she had no idea how long they'd been asleep. Bellamy continued to look down at her. Slowly, he pulled one hand away from her back, letting it trace its way up along her hip and waist before lifting it to brush her hair away from her face. His hand then found its way to her jaw, resting there while his thumb began to stroke her bottom lip. Clarke's eyes closed involuntarily and it was her turn to make a soft, throaty noise. "Fuck," she heard Bellamy curse quietly under his breath, just before she felt his lips crash into hers.

Her body reacted without her mind's permission, her leg immediately hitching itself high on Bellamy's hip as she deepened the kiss. Her hands felt their way down to the hem of his shirt and snaked under, feeling the hot, rippled flesh of his stomach and moving up to his chest. Bellamy's mouth was...exquisite. There was no other word for it. He kissed her deeply then gently bit her bottom lip before moving downward, leaving a line of fire as he nipped his way from her mouth down to her collarbone and back again. Clarke could hardly breathe.

His hands weren't idle either. Under her shirt, he found her breast and began stroking her through her bra. Her nipples pebbled to hard peaks under his touch. Bellamy lifted his knee between her legs, putting pressure at the apex of her thighs. She moaned against his mouth as she stroked his chest. Her hands raked through the downy hair that was sprinkled there before circling his nipples with her thumbs.

Bellamy's arms moved around her waist again and he rolled onto his back, taking her with him, pulling her on top, only breaking their kiss when he lifted Clarke's shirt over her head and tossed it aside. He sat up-she was straddling him now-and his shirt quickly joined Clarke's on the floor. Those hot hands of his made quick work of her bra also, then he stilled. He leaned back and drank in her body: her legs on either side of his hips, her breasts swollen with desire and tipped with rose colored nipples just aching to be sucked. And suck he did.

The moment Bellamy's mouth latched onto her breast, Clarke lost any remnant of her reasoning skills. Her hands tugged gently at his hair as his tongue worshiped her. She ground down against his erection, her own core on fire and ready-so ready-for him to be inside her. His continued his delicious assault against her breasts and he fumbled at the button on her pants. She took his cue and began loosening his belt as well.

Bellamy's hands moved to her ass and he pulled her tighter around his waist as he suddenly swung his legs off of the bed. He turned and set her down and began to tug her pants and panties down her legs. She continued fumbling with his belt. They were both moving quickly, afraid to stop or think. Finally, Clarke sat naked on the bed in front of him, and Bellamy helped her unbuckled his pants and slide them down to the floor. His erection sprang free and the sight of it made Clarke wetter than she had ever been in her life.

Standing, Bellamy moved quickly between her legs, his hand dipping into her folds first and finding her slick. He made a growling noise and used his thumb to tease her clit. Clarke groaned and wrapped her arms around Bellamy's neck to pull him in closer. She reached down and began stroking his cock with long, deliberate motions. His eyes closed and he moaned, but he never took his hand away from her heated core.

She needed him inside her. Now.

Grasping him firmly, she lined him up with her center and gasped as he sank into her with one quick thrust. She wrapped her legs around him and held on as he began a slow, deep rhythm that soon had her biting into his shoulder. He placed his hands under her ass and lifted her off of the bed. He thrust upward as he lowered her down on to his cock again, and again, and again.

Clarke was nearly delirious with lust, and she wanted more. "God, Bellamy, yes," she groaned. He turned and sat down on the bed again, driving into her as she settled her legs on either side of his hips. He lay back and watched her with reverence as she began to ride him. He reached up to stroke her breast with one hand while the other moved down to the juncture of their bodies. Clarke picked up her pace, fucking him faster and faster. When his thumb again began making circles around her clit, Clarke's core tightened and she exploded, crying out his name as her muscles spasmed around him. The sight of her wanton face and the sound of his name on her lips drove him over the edge as well, and he came with an intensity he had never experienced. He thrust upwards a few more times before stilling, breathing hard. Clarke collapsed against his chest, spent.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ow!"

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" Clarke exclaimed. She snatched her hands away from the ankle sprain she had been examining and realized she must have been pressing too hard against the swollen joint. The young woman attached to the limb looked down at her indignantly. "I'll just go and get a fresh cold pack and a compression bandage," Clarke muttered before retreating to the other side of the general triage room at Camp Jaha.

She had been distracted for two days now, and it was starting to showing in her work. Just now she had been lost in thought, remembering exactly how Bellamy's face had looked while peeling off her shirt and-

"No! Get ahold of yourself, Griffin!" Clarke thought desperately as she slammed a medical supply cabinet door and stalked back over to her exam table and the grumpy girl with the ankle sprain. She gently applied the cold pack to the outside of the young girl's ankle and made sure her leg was elevated. She glanced at her watch. Her shift was just ending and she had promised Raven she'd meet her in the mess hall for dinner. "The nurses will take it from here," Clarke told the patient, who looked relieved.

She made her way through the large vestibule that served as the main area of the medical pod, moving towards the exit. Just as she reached it, the door swung inward, slamming the wall behind it. There stood Bellamy, supporting another man who was sporting deep gash on his calf. Clarke sprang into action, shouldering herself under the wounded man's other arm, and helped Bellamy get him over to the nearest empty bed. Clarke motioned for assistance from Ellery, her own former nurse. Once the man was seated on the table, his teeth clenched together in pain, Bellamy spoke.

"We were making some mods to the perimeter fence and he got caught with the edge of a pickaxe."

The nurse nodded sympathetically and began winding a tourniquet above the man's knee. After she tasked the man with applying pressure to his wound, she straightened and smiled grimly. "You two certainly make a very effective team. And you," she said, nodding to Bellamy, "you're quite the man to have around in an emergency. I'm sure you're happy to have him, eh Clarke?" The nurse winked conspiratorially, and Clarke felt a blush creeping up her neck. She cleared her throat and responded quietly, "Sure." She didn't turn to meet his eyes, but she could feel the heat of his body next to her. The nurse turned back to the man, saying over her shoulder, "Go on, Clarke. I've got this one from here. Go get some dinner." Clarke turned back toward the door and strode out into the night air. Bellamy followed her. She knew he would.

"Clarke, c'mon, wait," Bellamy called. But Clarke moved swiftly forward, crossing the camp yard and ducking into the mess hall door. She scanned the room for Raven, finally spotting her a dozen yards away at a table with Wick. They were engaged in some pretty intense eye-to-eye gazing when Clarke plopped down into a chair opposite them. Wick noticed her presence first, glancing at Clarke and grinning. "Hey there, boss lady. How's tricks?" Clarke rolled her eyes but grinned back. "Pretty good. Not hungry, guys?" Wick and Raven both looked down at their full trays, seemingly surprised that neither of their meals had been touched. Raven shrugged, but looked pleased with herself. "Time flies when you're having fun, Griffin, not that you'd know." Clarke looked away, willing Raven not to notice the blush that suddenly appeared on her face. She wasn't that lucky.

"Wait. What's with that look?" Raven demanded. Dammit. Clarke forced herself to meet her friend's eyes. "What look? There's no look, ok? Can I have your apple?"

But Raven wasn't about to be distracted. "Don't change the subject. What's going on with you? Why do you look so guilty all of a …" Raven trailed off, her eyes suddenly trained on something-someone-behind Clarke.

"Dammit, Clarke, this is ridiculous. It's been two goddamn days. You're going to have to talk to me at some point." Clarke's stomach dropped at the sound of his voice. Of course. Bellamy had followed her inside and now he was standing behind her, on the verge of making a _fucking_ scene. Which was the very thing she did not want.

Clarke took a deep breath and held it for a moment, trying to compose herself while she stared down at the table in front of her. She could feel Raven's and Wick's eyes on her. _Fuck._

She turned around in her seat and looked up at Bellamy. There was that look. That stupid, intense smoulder that he was so good at throwing around. But Clarke was chagrinned to see hurt behind his eyes also. Fantastic. Not only had she slept with Bellamy, confusing the most important relationship she had on Earth, she'd also managed to hurt him. He deserved a conversation, Clarke knew. But damned if it was going to happen in the crowded mess hall.

"Fine," Clarke bit out. "I'll...meet you outside the bunks in a few minutes, ok?" Clarke didn't want the entire hall to see her leaving with him, not while they looked so angry (him) and guilty (her). Bellamy gave her a hard look, opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it. He turned and strode out of the hall. Clarke watched as innocent bystanders holding trays of food took one look at his stormy face and moved quickly out of his path.

Clarke turned back to her friends. Raven had the most annoyingly knowing expression, her lips curving into a slow smirk. "Oh God, shut _up," _Clarke muttered. Raven's smirk broke into a wide grin. Wick, on the other hand, looked confusedly back and forth between the two. Finally he said "Right, well, I'm gonna let you guys talk about...whatever that was." He took his full tray and left to go join Monty and Jasper at a nearby table that was thankfully out of earshot.

"Spill," said Raven.

Despite her better judgement, Clarke told Raven about the night in the medical pod. She told her how Bellamy had carried her there after her panic attack (or whatever it was) and how he had stayed with her when she couldn't face sleeping alone. And she could barely meet her friend's eyes when she told her about the unexpected, but completely, mind-blowingly hot, encounter they'd had once they'd woken up together. Though she was mortified to be explaining all of this, she had to admit it felt good to get it all off her chest. Clarke didn't often allow herself to confide in anyone, even a proven friend like Raven.

"Oh, Clarke," Raven whispered. Then she chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Griffin, it was going to happen sooner or later. You guys are so close and the shit you've been through together...you were bound to collide at some point. I'm amazed it took this long, honestly."

Clarke was shocked. "I...I _never_ pictured it happening. I mean, yeah, ok, Bellamy is hot and all-" "Bellamy is _smoking_ hot," Raven corrected. "Right, ok, sure. He's smoking hot and he's a great leader and there are a million reasons for a girl to be attracted to him. But _me_? I'm...I'm such a mess right now. With everything that's happened, and Finn-" Clarke stopped herself. Shit. "Oh, Raven, I'm sorry-". Raven's winced slightly, but waved Clarke's apology away. "No, it's ok. I get it. We're all more than a little fucked up down here. And I know the shit that went down in Mt. Weather is weighing on you. But…" Raven glanced over to the table where Wick sat laughing with Monty and Jasper. "...I don't know. We're all just doing our best down here, aren't we? Bellamy and you...it makes so much sense, Clarke. Maybe you can help each other deal with it all." Raven turned back to her and grinned suddenly. "Besides, if anyone needs to get laid, it's you. You've had that stick up your ass for far too long." Clarke laughed despite herself, then sobered.

"I guess I have to go talk to him." Raven nodded sagely, "Best to just rip the bandaid off, Clarke." Clarke sighed and stood, squaring her shoulders as she made her way through the crowded hall. She'd faced Grounders and Reapers and Mountain Men and whatever that fucking water creature was that tried to eat Octavia when they'd first arrived. She could handle Bellamy Smoulder-Face Blake.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This is the last chapter! Thanks for reading! Since this was my first ever fan fic attempt, I'd really appreciate any reviews!

Clarke trudged across the camp's yard toward the structure that housed dozens of makeshift bunks. Every step she took, her resolve weakened. Though Raven's pep talk had managed to make her feel slightly more in control of the whole situation, Clarke was still more nervous than she could remember being in a long time. She felt guilty for childishly ignoring Bellamy for the past two days. And since she'd refused to even talk to him, she had no idea where his head was at in this giant mess. It suddenly occurred to Clarke that Bellamy could very well regret the entire thing. After all, he could have any girl on the ground (probably HAD had most of them), and there was every possibility that he didn't want any sort of relationship with Clarke.

"_Relationship!?_ What are you even _thinking?_" came the voice in her head.

It was twilight now, and Clarke could make out Bellamy's form ahead in the semi-darkness. He was facing away from her, hands in his pockets. An admiring smile came unbidden to Clarke's face. There was no denying it, Bellamy Blake had a nice ass.

He whirled around when he heard her clear her throat. "Hi," she said, proud that her voice didn't crack. Why was her heart racing? This was _Bellamy_.

"Hi, yourself," said Bellamy. "Thanks for taking the time out of your busy fucking schedule to talk to me."

Ok, so he was pissed. Well, pissed off Bellamy was a version Clarke had seen and dealt with many times before.

"I'm sorry, Bellamy. It's been...I don't know why I found it so hard to face you after what happened. I mean, I _know_ why, I just...there was a lot going on in my head. I needed some time."

Bellamy's glare softened somewhat. "What exactly has you so mixed up here, Clarke? We had sex-great sex, I should add-and then you left that room like a bat out of hell." How could he not see that their physical encounter, mind-blowing thought it may have been, had changed everything? That they had risked their friendship, their partnership, in a way that was totally irresponsible?

Clarke looked at her feet and crossed her arms. It was a defensive gesture, meant to ward off the intense physical reality of the boy in front of her as much as the cold night air. Part of her, well, most of her, wanted to retreat from his gaze, to go hide in her bunk like a scolded child. What frightened her more was that another part of her was fighting a very serious urge to go to him and bury her face in his chest and let him stroke her hair and tell her everything was forgiven. She was very used to upsetting Bellamy. God knew she'd been yelled at by him more often than anyone else in camp. But something about the particular hurt on his face at this moment was so distressing, and she hated that she was the cause of it.

She heard Bellamy sigh. "I would have given you time, Clarke. But shutting me out like that, with no hint as to what you were thinking…" he laughed bitterly. "Let's just say it made me realize some things." Clarke's heart began racing even faster. Realize some things? What things? What did that mean? Oh God, this is what she'd been worried about. Everything was different now. Until two days ago, she knew his thoughts with a single look. Now he was a mystery to her.

She marshalled all of her courage and looked up to meet his eyes. His eyebrows were knit together in anger, or maybe concern…she couldn't really tell what he was thinking. Clarke's voice was small when she said, "I'm sorry. I just...you're my best friend. I didn't want to face what we did or what it might mean." His look intensified, his eyes boring into hers. "You see, Clarke, that's where we're different. I need you to talk to me, tell me where you're at with all this. Best friend?" Bellamy ran a hand through his unruly hair and let out another exasperated sigh. "Hell, that doesn't even begin to cover what you are to me. And let me be clear about something, in case you're confused in any way. I don't regret a single thing about what happened two nights ago."

Suddenly, Clarke found it very hard to breathe. "You don't?" she whispered. Bellamy took a step towards her, purposefully standing just a bit too close. "No. I don't. But I've been driving myself crazy for two days thinking that you _do_ regret it." He moved closer still, so that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. She felt every beat of her heart, felt terrified and elated all at once. Bellamy didn't regret it. And he didn't want her to regret it either. Her hands, tightly crossed under her elbows, itched to reach out to him. But something held her back.

Bellamy didn't feel the same reserve. Looming over her, he brought his hand to her face and held it against her cheek, his thumb edging out to stroke her bottom lip in the same way he had done two nights ago. Clarke's body responded again. She closed her eyes and let everything else fade away. All that existed in the universe were her lips and Bellamy's slightly rough hand. He spoke softly, his warm breath tickling her face. "Clarke, I know you're scared. I'm a little scared myself. But if the past two days were any indication of what life would be like without you right next to me...believe me, I'm not interested in going through that again."

Clarke opened her eyes and cleared her throat before responding. "I'm not going anywhere. I won't run from you again."

Bellamy's responding smile was so genuine and disarming that Clarke couldn't help but return it. He bent to capture her mouth in a kiss that was equal parts sweet and demanding, the sort of kiss that caused roughly a thousand butterflies to take flight in her stomach. When Bellamy finally broke away, Clarke was pleased to note that his breathing was as unsteady as her own. He rested his forehead against hers and said softly, "We'll take it slow, Princess." "Right," Clarke laughed, "We wouldn't want to rush into anything." Bellamy laughed, too.

He reached a hand down and laced his fingers through Clarke's. "Can I assume that Raven knows about our-"

"If you say lovemaking, I'll kick you!" Clarke broke in. Bellamy chuckled. "I was going to call it our night of passion."

"Ugh, that's worse!" Clarke poked Bellamy in the stomach. "And yes, she knows, not that she needed superhuman powers of deduction to figure out something was up. And since _she _knows, I think it's safe to say that Monty and Jasper and oh GOD, my mother is going to give me such hell!"

Bellamy just laughed again. "Come on, Princess, let's go get some food. Then we can find an empty medical supply closet or something. I have two days worth of pent up wanting-to-kiss-you frustration that demands to be satisfied." Clarke rolled her eyes, but let him pull her by the hand back towards camp.

THE END


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